


Shirts and Giggles

by Tamoline



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 03:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamoline/pseuds/Tamoline
Summary: Eleanor might have been voted 'Most Likely to Go to Hell' in high school -- and, well, mission accomplished there -- but getting to sleep with an actual demon wasn't such a bad consolation prize.





	Shirts and Giggles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphrodite_mine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/gifts).



> This was written after episode 1 of season 2 as a potential future. Hopefully it won't be too OOC by the time of reveals.

The front door slammed open with enough force to rattle the windows. Vicky stormed through it into the living room, her face like a thundercloud. Stomping her feet like war drums, she slammed the door again behind her and kicked a table. The table skidded along the floor, but didn’t tip over. Apparently unsatisfied with that, Vicky kicked it until it did fall over, and then stomped up and down on it until it broke into pieces. Tossing her hair dramatically, she flounced her way further into the room, threw her hands into the air, and screamed for several seconds before dropping her hands again and heaving great, loud breaths.

“Good day, babe?” Eleanor asked somewhat distractedly, whilst tilting left and right on the couch as she tried to maneuver Laura Thatch -- maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that copyright lawyers had sway in the Bad Place -- through the three perfectly timed and placed jumps that would take her past the game breaking bug that would wipe out the last ten hours of progress. For the fifth time.

Laura bounced straight off the pillar instead of waiting the mandated 0.55 seconds. At least according to Tahani, who had proved to be freakishly good at these kind of nerd games -- apparently the only thing she could beat her sister at.

Make that the sixth time.

“Fork!” she screamed in frustration, cutting Vicky off mid rant about something or other.

“And sometimes I feel like you just don’t listen to me,” Vicky complained, eyes starting to brim with tears. Which, shirt, was always a total warning sign.

“That’s just not true, babe,” Eleanor said, getting up and walking over to her, arms open. “You were telling me about your shirty coworkers.”

It was always her coworkers, one way or another.

Vicky held back stiffly for a moment, before collapsing bonelessly into Eleanor’s arms, sobbing loudly and theatrically. Eleanor heaved an internal sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

“It’s just not fair,” Vicky said, voice muffled as Eleanor patted her on the back awkwardly. “You wait an eternity -- a literal eternity -- for something more stimulating than pouring lava inside someone’s ears, a position where you can *really* show off your talents, then just when you think you have an opportunity, forking *Karen* upstages you.”

She said the name with such disgust that Eleanor was almost surprised that her tongue didn’t literally drip with venom.

Annnnd that was a thought she was promptly going to scrub from her brain.

“Forking Karen. What a birch,” she said, half-heartedly trying to remember which particular birch that was.

Eh, if it was important, she’d ask Chidi. He was good at things like that. Remembering peoples’ names, saying please and thank you. Not keying someone’s Porche just because she bought the dress you’d had your eye on for a month and had sweet-talked Jeremy or James or Jonathan or whoever into sneaking it into the bargain bin specifically so you could buy it at seventy per cent off because that was the only way you could afford it, and if he loved you, surely he’d risk a little thing like losing his job…

To use a completely hypothetical example.

“I know!” Vicky said viciously. “I swear, I’m going to get her assigned to clean up when we run the scenario when you messing up causes the sewage system to reverse and shoot carp out of the toilets.”

Carp? Oh, *carp*.

“Uh, that’s something that’s coming up?” Eleanor asked. “So to speak.”

Vicky pulled away and beamed at her, tears seemingly forgotten. “Oh yes. It’s something we’ve all been looking forward to since the *beginning*. It was part of Michael’s sales pitch to us.”

“Well that sounds like a total shirt show,” Eleanor said, making a mental note to see if she could persuade Michael to do something else instead. Or at least make sure someone else was on the toilet when everything got forked up.

“So?” Vicky said expectantly. “Do you think you can do this for me?” and Eleanor had to quickly run through her memory. Oh yes, Kate-Pam-someone, toilet, carp.

“Sure,” she said vaguely, “I can talk to Michael about that. See what I can do.” As one of the stars of the show keeping Michael from being torn apart and eternally tortured, she had a certain amount of sway. Of course, the fact that she also had an implicit stake in keeping his superiors fooled -- the whole not being eternally tortured herself -- did undercut her position a little.

“You’re the best,” Vicky said, snuggling back up to her. Eleanor felt Vicky’s small, sharp teeth starting to nibble at her neck, and moaned appreciatively. “Here,” Vicky said, pushing her back down onto the couch, “let me show you how much I appreciate you.”

And, wow, there were definitely things that Vicky could do with her mouth that were better than talking.

Afterwards, whilst Eleanor was returning the favour, she lifted her mouth from Vicky’s far too perfect breast, and asked, “So, your coworkers… Anything happening there apart from them being generally untalented hacks?”

Vicky groaned and pushed Eleanor’s head back down.”Urgh. Sebastian. He’s really insistent that he should get biting rights too. Ever since Gunnar got his bite on, various other people have been getting jealous.”

Eleanor didn’t mention that Jason giving Gunnar a bite hadn’t been exactly intentional, but -- ugh. If it’d help this roiling pot of discontent from boiling over for a little longer…

“I’ll talk to Michael about setting up a biting lottery,” she said, mumbling around Vicky’s breast.

“Mmmm…” Vicky moaned, arching upwards as Eleanor slipped a finger inside her. Which -- literal demon, but that was still forking hot. “If you’re going to be one of the prizes, maybe I should enter,” she said, snapping her teeth and laughing in a not entirely playful manner.

Eleanor shivered, not quite sure whether she’d want that or not, then got back down to business.

Afterwards, Eleanor curled up next to Vicky as she took her turn on the Y-Cube -- copyright issues again -- watching as Vicky worked Laura Thatch on her way towards the same spot Eleanor had been when Vicky had interrupted earlier. There was a moment, just before Vicky hit the three jumps she turned to look at Eleanor with what looked like an expression of actual affection and Eleanor couldn’t help smiling back. And then...

“Forking hail!” Vicky swore, and Eleanor grinned around her mouthful of pizza. Hawaiian pizza, true, but pizza nonetheless.

This wasn’t so bad, she thought, as Vicky swore eternal vengeance against the motherforking demonic nerds that had coded this, ranting that she’d track them down and insert every single Laura Thatch disc in existence rectally, before pouring lava in their ears. 

It might not be the Good Place, but then again it wasn’t as though Eleanor could convince even herself that she deserved that. But this? It was good enough.


End file.
